The night was dark, and as we lay
down we could hear mingled with the howling of wolves the hoarse
bellowing of the buffalo, like the ocean beating upon a distant
coast.
CHAPTER XXV
THE BUFFALO CAMP
No one in the camp was more active than Jim Gurney, and no one half
so lazy as Ellis. Between these two there was a great antipathy.
Ellis never stirred in the morning until he was compelled to, but Jim
was always on his feet before daybreak; and this morning as usual the
sound of his voice awakened the party.
"Get up, you booby! up with you now, you're fit for nothing but
eating and sleeping. Stop your grumbling and come out of that
buffalo robe or I'll pull it off for you."
Jim's words were interspersed with numerous expletives, which gave
them great additional effect. Ellis drawled out something in a nasal
tone from among the folds of his buffalo robe; then slowly disengaged
himself, rose into sitting posture, stretched his long arms, yawned
hideously, and finally, raising his tall person erect, stood staring
round him to all the four quarters of the horizon. Delorier's fire
was soon blazing, and the horses and mules, loosened from their
pickets, were feeding in the neighboring meadow. When we sat down to
breakfast the prairie was still in the dusky light of morning; and as
the sun rose we were mounted and on our way again.
"A white buffalo!" exclaimed Munroe.
"I'll have that fellow," said Shaw, "if I run my horse to death after
him."
He threw the cover of his gun to Delorier and galloped out upon the
prairie.
"Stop, Mr. Shaw, stop!" called out Henry Chatillon, "you'll run down
your horse for nothing; it's only a white ox."
But Shaw was already out of hearing. The ox, who had no doubt
strayed away from some of the government wagon trains, was standing
beneath some low hills which bounded the plain in the distance. Not
far from him a band of veritable buffalo bulls were grazing; and
startled at Shaw's approach, they all broke into a run, and went
scrambling up the hillsides to gain the high prairie above. One of
them in his haste and terror involved himself in a fatal catastrophe.
Along the foot of the hills was a narrow strip of deep marshy soil,
into which the bull plunged and hopelessly entangled himself. We all
rode up to the spot. The huge carcass was half sunk in the mud,
which flowed to his very chin, and his shaggy mane was outspread upon
the surface. As we came near the bull began to struggle with
convulsive strength; he writhed to and fro, and in the energy of his
fright and desperation would lift himself for a moment half out of
the slough, while the reluctant mire returned a sucking sound as he
strained to drag his limbs from its tenacious depths.
